Heal Thyself
by George P
Summary: Dr. Ami Mizuno receives a request from a legend of justice to treat two young heroes. But the help she's asked for makes her face the worst memory from her sailor senshi days.


Heal Thyself

by

George Pollock, Jr.

She had just stepped to her front door when the dark night branches rustled nearby.

"Mizuno-sensei." It was a low, moody, intense voice. It seemed part of the trees above her, part of the dark. The voice of a creature of the night.

The female doctor had had her keys out to unlock the door. Now she covered them with her hand, making a fist around the keying, with the keys poking out between the fingers. Now her hand was like a spiked glove. Now she had a weapon.

"Yes …?" she asked cautiously, turning toward the voice. Looking up, she saw a silhouette on a heavy branch far up in the full moon. Only an upright figure with broad shoulders. The head atop them had tall, pointed vertical ears. And in the shadow, its eyes glinted. Maybe they were there, maybe she only thought they were there. But she felt as if she couldn't escape them. Always, they were on her.

The shape's voice finally registered with her. She visibly relaxed and released the keys from her fist.

"Wayne-sama," she sighed and shook her head slightly. "How very like you."

"Your help is needed," the shape said.

"And _that_ is very _unlike _you."

"Someone else needs the help. I'm here on their behalf."

She crossed her arms. "What's the problem?"

"Two of the Justice League's younger … associates … got into a fight. A bad one. _They _need your help."

"Isn't getting into fights what the League _does_, Wayne-sama?"

"It tries to _stop _them, Mizuno-sensei. Just as you tried when you were younger."

She thought. "Fair enough. What sort of fight did they get into?"

"With each other."

"Ouch."

"Two teenage girls. They live together with three other teens in America and work as a unit. Sort of on-the-job training. The girls are good friends. Usually."

Friends fighting.

Friends fighting …

Every nerve in her skin froze.

Friends fighting ...

An unwanted wash of cold, one she thought she had finally overcome, assaulted her. Violently from the past. She shivered.

She took a breath. "I see."

"One's an alien with energy power and superhuman strength," the shadow began. "The other's a half-demon with trans-dimensional energy power. She can also pass through matter."

"Sounds like quite a match-up."

"The alien girl usually isn't confrontational. Tries to get along with everyone. Sometimes to the point of naiveté. The half demon is usually moody and cynical."

The doctor couldn't hold back a chuckle. "She sounds like she could be _your_ daughter, Wayne-sama."

"_Her_ father is a demon, sensei," he noted pointedly.

Score one for the silhouette, she conceded. "What caused the fight?"

"The alien girl snapped at something the half demon said. Her moodiness can be annoying after a while, apparently. But to survive day to day, the half demon has to suppress her emotions. Bad things happen when she doesn't. Very bad things."

"And this time, she didn't, right?"

"Actually," the shade answered, "she _did. _It was the alien who lost control. If you're nonconfrontational, you explode when you finally let go."

You explode …

The cold gripped her tighter.

You explode …

And then, pinning it down with pain, a horribly frigid memory raped her heart.

She fought to focus. "What … are their conditions?"

"The alien girl is essentially uninjured. She's confined in the League's Watchtower in orbit. She's been put in energy-suppressing manacles and shackles."

"That's medieval, Wayne-sama."

"But necessary. And she's traumatized to the point of nearly being in shock."

"And the other girl?"

"Her power absorbed most of the shock to protect her organs," he said, "but a lot of her bones are broken. A few are shattered beyond repair."

The physician cringed. "Damn. How'd the alien do that?"

"Repeat blows in the same places. Her fury took over."

Her fury took over …

In the woman's heart, the cold – after the violation – viciously slapped its victim. Insult to injury.

Her fury took over …

She recovered. "What … does the Watchtower's medical staff say about the half demon?"

"It's recommending prosthetics for all the major bones in both arms and legs."

"_All _of them? My _God_ …"

"Along with several ribs. Other bones might be able to mend. She has the ability to self-heal, but from the progress they can see on the scans, it looks like it's beyond her at this point."

She considered. "From what I've heard, the Watchtower staff ought to be able to handle prosthetic replacements and set the bones that could heal. I don't see how I can help, Wayne-sama. I'm not a surgeon. I'm a pediatrician."

"True. But you bring something else."

"Like what?"

"Mizuno-sensei," he answered deeply, "the girls now hurt in the same way _you_ hurt on the worst day of your past life."

There was silence.

And then the cold finally spoke:

"Me … and … Usagi …?" she finally asked herself.

"There are parallels," he offered.

"I _know _that!!" she yelled.

Silence from him. Then, "Only you can help them, sensei. They need someone who's been through what they're going through. It's not only medical help now. It's emotional."

She didn't see the silhouette at that point. It had faded into the blazing red of her blinding, monstrous anger from years before. When she and her friends wore the magical-schoolgirl sailor uniforms of their youth.

She heard the screaming pain of a friend – blond and pigtailed – who had finally angered her beyond her strongest, most final patience.

She saw the friend on the ground, bleeding from a hundred tiny slices from the ice needles that the doctor – as an enraged girl – had magically flung in a lethal silver spray.

She felt herself instantly restrained by two of their friends – another blonde and a tall brunette – each as strong and magical as she was.

She saw another girl – dark-haired with hard, angry eyes – aiming a fiery bow and arrow at her face, ready to snuff out the future physician's fury forever. Give me a reason to shoot, the hard eyes said. Give me a reason.

She felt the cold punch in her stomach as realization of the horror she had committed finally struck her, and she fell to her knees.

She heard a wail from within herself, like that of a terrified, trussed-up animal.

Then she felt the cold hardness of a hospital room's floor on her knees. The wrinkled fabric of a hospital bed's cover on her wet cheek as she knelt by the bed. The sobbing that racked her body.

She saw the pigtailed friend bandaged and hooked to an IV. Heard the beep of a nearby monitor. And how she kept wailing, "I'M _SORRY,_ USAGI!! I'M _SO_ _SORRY!!_ FORGIVE ME!! _PLEASE!! I'M SO SORRY!!_"

She saw the darkness as she closed her eyes and wished they'd never open again. Even death didn't seem enough penance.

Then she felt the gentleness of a bandaged hand on her head. She saw her friend again and saw her friend's eyes open slightly. They looked up at the ceiling, not at her.

She heard a weak voice:

"I'm sorry … I made you … so angry … I'm … sorry …"

She saw herself take the bandaged hand in her own and press it to her still-crying face. Even through the wrapping, she felt warmth. She saw darkness again in her closing eyes, and a moment later, felt her friend's other hand rest on her head. She felt the hand start to slowly, weakly – kindly – stroke the future doctor's short dark hair.

She felt forgiveness.

Then she saw the friends together again later, but different. She saw how for some time after that, the other blonde, the tall brunette and the hard-eyed dark-haired girl – surprisingly – _didn't_ turn their backs to her.

But still, for the longest time, they wouldn't turn their backs_ on _her.

The brunette was the kindest, but it was a long time before something akin to comfort returned to the group. Never completely, though.

Yet, she also saw – years later – her pigtailed friend wed the man of her dreams. And saw their daughter. Both times as a friend of the family.

She felt absolved.

"Mizuno-sensei?" the moody voice asked.

She blinked. "Forgive me, Wayne-sama. I was just thinking."

"Will you help these girls?"

"Of course," she said. "I'm a doctor. I'm honored that the League thought of me. Guess that's because I helped you when you were injured in Tokyo. I was told your Doctor Thompkins in America contacted the League for help."

"The League keeps track of its friends. People like you."

"I admit I was surprised. I'm a pediatrician, as I said."

"A doctor is a doctor, sensei. One was needed who understood the lives we've led. And that's why you're needed now."

"I have patient appointments tomorrow," she recalled. "How soon _am_ I needed?"

"_Now._ Your patients have already been directed to other doctors for the next week. The League is very thorough."

Her eyes narrowed sharply in cool surprise. And some considerable offense. "_That_ was _presumptuous,_ Wayne-sama," she growled. "_Very_ presumptuous."

"But necessary," he repeated.

She sighed and tried to cool down. "OK ... I can be ready soon."

"The Javelin is at Narita airport. I'll be waiting."

"I can be there in …" She calculated. "… three hours."

"Make it two."

"All right, then."

She expected an answer. What replied was the sudden opening of the door, and a dark-haired man – seemingly in his 30s – appeared. He regarded her curiously. "Ami?" he asked, as if he weren't sure who she was. "_Thought_ I heard you out here." He glanced around. "Were you talking to someone?"

She indicated the branches. "Batman-sama from America."

He looked where she pointed, just in time to see half a human-like silhouette vanish behind the trunk. Only one pointed ear and the suggestion of an eye was clear.

"Ah," the man said, then bowed deeply. "Hello. It's an honor."

The shadow said nothing.

"Greg," she said, "there's an emergency on the Watchtower. I'm going to have to go there for a few days."

He nodded. "What's the problem?"

"Too long to explain. I need you to drive me to Narita as soon as I'm packed."

He studied her for a moment, then glanced at the specter. Then back at her. "All right." He checked the branches one last time. "Good to meet you. Good night," he said and finished with another deep bow.

He faced her again. "I'll let you two finish up. See you inside."

"OK."

He disappeared back into the home. The silhouette returned in full. "You've told him about your ties to the League?" it asked.

"My husband and I have no secrets from each other, Wayne-sama," she explained.

He considered that. "Not even your past life as Mercury?"

She smiled. "_That_," she said firmly, "was the _first_ secret I shared with him. Long before we even thought of marriage. It was the first time I knew I could always trust him."

And she swore that then, she saw– above the suggestion of one eye – an eyebrow being raised.

"Two hours, sensei," was all he said. He spun, was lost in the dark swirl of a long cape and was gone.

She watched the night trees for a moment more, then turned back and entered the home.

Been a long day, she thought, closing the door. And a long time since I thought about Usagi.

I should call her soon …

_God,_ I feel so _tired _...

Maybe, she thought as she headed for their bedroom, I can sleep on the plane ...

"Sailor Moon," "Batman," "Justice League"; their characters; and situations are copyright of their respective owners. Story copyright 2010 by George Pollock, Jr.


End file.
